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Needful Things; Friday

The previous day's museum visit having gone the way it had, there was really only one thing for Harley to do...

Throw herself full throttle into her heist plans!!

Sure, there were other things she could've tried to do, too, but the top one was both too terrifying and she was sure Steven was too busy continuing to be self-righteous and licking his wounds and doing absolutely no genuine self-reflection whatsoever - and most importantly, holding onto the body all through that - for her to even make an attempt at the thing right then, so. Heist plans it was!

She had a map of the mainland spread out on the floor in the middle of the still-empty store. And at each corner of the map, there were offerings of rum. She could remember about the squirrels when it counted, and crime really counted! She had a marker, and she had her phone, and she was marking the locations of some of the places the kid had scouted that seemed to have the best loot. Or, she could say, where the best merch for her store was just waiting to fall right into her grubby little hands.

She was, after all, a genuine article bad person.

(ALL HEIST STUFF NFB PLZ, store closed, post open, some SP will occur throughout Friday)

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Well. That radio broadcast sure was... something.

Pam let herself into the shop and was utterly unsurprised by the sight of Harley. "So," she said, and shooed a drunken squirrel away with her foot. "Crime?"

"Crime!" Harley agreed, looking up at her with a big grin. Maybe a little too big.

In case there had been any doubt about the level, and type, of energy she'd gone into this thing with.

That seemed about right.

Pam let the door close behind her, and shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls. "What's the plan?"

Did she want details? Because she was getting details, as Harley launched into explaining the plan as it stood right then, gesturing all across the map as she did.

Despite the... excitable way it was presented, it was actually pretty solid and well thought out. Harley could name pros and cons for all the potential places to hit, knew which of them at least claimed to have cameras or security, had some sense of how many could maybe be hit in a single night - and what to skip if time got too tight.

Of course, there were also several asides about things like which place had the most mirrors and how fun that would be with the trippy cloak, or how Cass had noted one place was owned by someone with a black poodle Harley was apparently now dying to also steal. But all in all, it was basically like a grand tour of antique store burglaries, all adding up to great pay day.

"-- and then back to the island, and maybe get some rikshaw drivers to help carry all the fabulous loot to the store!"

"And I was going to ask if you needed a hand, but you've stolen my thunder," Pam teased, her mouth curving into a smile. "Excellent work, Dr. Quinn."

Harley beamed at her. (Too big, too bright.)

"Well it ain't my first rodeo with planning this shit, you know!"

"Oh, I know," Pam said. "Doesn't mean I can't admire a girl's large tracts... of heist plan."

She brushed some of her red hair behind her ear. "Wanna take a break, though?"

"Sure!" Harley said, bright and loud this time. Hey, a distraction from her distraction, she'd take it! "Whatcha got in mind, Pam-a-lam?"

Doing just fine and not hyper at all!

"A drink and a sit-down?"

Let Harley stall just a little longer...

"Well I'm already doing one of those!" Harley replied, gesturing to herself, on the floor, with a snicker. "I'm way ahead of ya."

"Where can I find the drinks, Harls," Pam said. Still smiling, and amused, but maybe with a little emphasis just to make it clear what she'd been actually asking.

"You coulda been hiding some on ya," Harley returned, "I don't know what secret compartments ya got in those overalls!"

She was absolutely going to be thinking about whatever secret compartments there might be. Dirty? Not dirty? Both.

Anyway, she pointed upwards. "Upstairs. Used to be some down here, but... Lost in the tragedy of the fire."

One way to put it.

"Shall we go upstairs, then?" Pam was just going to ignore the implications of that. "Or do you wanna stay close to your map?"

"I can take it with!" Harley declared, and made good on that by springing gracefully onto her feet and sweeping the map (and her phone) along with her. If she spilled one of the cups of rum as she did so... Well, wasn't the first time. "You never wanna leave your secrets just laying around!"

Incidentally, she was going to realize what a colossal mistake letting anyone see the apartment upstairs was only once they'd get there.

Pam was pretty sure she could take it, whatever it was.

"As a wise woman once said," she agreed, already heading towards the back room.

Edited 2025-08-15 20:55 (UTC)

Once she got there, she was greeted by Bruce, curled up on a nest of blankets right by the stairs. He lifted his head, immediately alert, and gave Pam what probably passed for a quizzical, possibly distrustful look on a hyena face.

"Brucey baby," Harley called from behind Pam, "relax, it's just Pam. You remember Pammy, right?"

Pam had once provided food, so... Yes.

"Hi, Bruce," Pam said, hands still in her pockets as she looked at Bruce. She didn't seem particularly afraid; she was still walking on towards the stairs, albeit slower. "I didn't bring anything this time, sorry. Bud and Lou ate the last of the hyena treats last night."

Maybe Bruce smelled Bud and Lou.

"Oh, he knows better than to expect treats every time," Harley said cheerfully, "I mean, Ma--" Ohhhhh no not going there! "Well, he just knows. Don't ya?"

And she stepped up to give Bruce a few scritches, just to show him there was no reason for him to worry about anything. Including investigating any unfamiliar (vaguely familiar?) hyena scents currently moving towards the open door at the top of the stairs.

"Yes you do, good boy!"

"I promise I'll get something next time," Pam told Bruce. Still with her hands in her pockets. She didn't want to make any sudden movements.

She had not been a fan of the hyenas back in the day, no, but after several pockets of cohabiting with Harley, she'd warmed to them some.

It was like the price of entry into any Harley's home, and even then you really only had to tolerate them.

"And he'll be waitin' eagerly, I'm sure," Harley replied, and dropped a quick kiss atop Bruce's furry head. It had been a good idea to finally get him back from the kid, it really had. "But like a good little hyena!"

"You're a good boy, Bruce," Pam called.

Would she chance the stairs now?

Well. One foot first.

Harley seemed to have momentarily forgotten about the upstairs altogether, so it was probably best to jog her memory by moving.

Bruce made some kind of hyena noise. Harley snickered and gave him the last few scritches behind his ears before beginning to pull away, finally.

Since Bruce wasn't lunging or signaling concern, Pam kept going. Allll the way up the stairs.

Last chance to remember about the mess, Quinn.

That thing about Harley mostly remembering stuff when it was within her field of vision?

Yeah. It got in her way a lot.

The apartment was, indeed, a mess. The kitchen area at the far end of the main room just looked cluttered in the typical Harley way, but the rest... Of course, empty bottles and takeout debris were even more all over the place than usual. But her furniture was also all in odd places, like a hurricane had come through. There was a conspicuous empty space right by the door where the couch had clearly previously been for a long time.

Said couch was now askew by a different wall in a spot it didn't really fit in, since it was now half-blocking the door into the bathroom. A half-empty bookcase had been shoved a few feet from its original spot, evident from the way the stuff (a framed picture, the certificate for her doctorate, a Barbie doll...) on the shelves had either fallen over or onto the floor. In front of it, the coffee table lay purposefully tipped over.

The kitchen table was positioned at an odd angle, probably perfect for repeatedly smacking your thigh into while trying to get past it.

And of course, there was the piece de resistance, the door closest to the entrance into the apartment. It was open - in a manner of speaking. See, it was cordoned off with police tape. (Why did Harley have police tape? Why wouldn't Harley have police tape?!) Even a brief glimpse past the yellow strips of CRIME SCENE - DO NOT CROSS revealed the obvious lack of something really crucial for a bedroom in the room. There was a giant bedazzled WELCOME TO POUNDTOWN sign on the wall, with... something? duct taped about a foot lower.

But there was no bed below them.

Which probably explained the blankets, the pillows, the angsty romance novel and the abandoned sex toy all currently housed on the couch, instead.

And Harley was practically whistling as she followed Pam up the stairs.

Pam made it a few steps inside before she bothered to comment. Was she surprised? No, not really. Did some masochistic part of her mind wonder if this is what Harley's old apartment had looked like after she stormed out, now around two years ago?

Maybe.

But what made it out of her mouth was a simple, practical, "So we're going to the Isle of IKEA later to get you a new bed."

NFB

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